


Cake and Death

by Silver_Moonshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Gen, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Moonshine/pseuds/Silver_Moonshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure HP crack-fic goodness. Voldemort finally invades Hogwarts... but everything goes to Hell as the frosting hits the fan. Starring Black Betty, comfort eating, perverted rats and Satan. Oh... and cake. Lots and lots of cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Very mild slash (could be read as platonic affection), one-sided lust *ahem*Pettigrew*ahem* and shameless use of ambiguous phrases, acronyms and... uh... cake.

It had been a vast year since Voldemort had declared the strategic retreat of his forces after their irritating failure in receiving the prophecy from the Ministry of Magic. They had spent their time well, amassing allies and minions, stocking up on nasty potions and becoming proficient at the type of spells that made a reducto to the groin look like a tickling charm.

The mildly insane leader was very pleased with their progress and his crimson eyes glinted with greedy satisfaction as he viewed his minions, like an albenio rat that had just spotted a tasty morsel of food lingering in the corner of his food bowl. His thoughts whirled as oil would in a contaminated puddle and reaching a conclusion of world-changing proportions he stood calmly,

‘Silence minions.’

The gathered Deatheaters – near 1000 strong – immediately quietened and the Dark Lord rose to speak in all his majestic, silk lined glory. There was a squeak beside him and Pettigrew – stinking more like a rat than ever – regarded him with watery, loving eyes whilst holding up a paw...hand, for permission to speak. Voldemort shuddered in revulsion at the adoring look he was being afforded with and absently reminded himself to cast locking charms on his underwear draw as he waved for the rat to speak. Leaning close – was that a clipboard clutched to his rotund belly? – the trembling man whispered,

‘You’re not allowed to refer to them as ‘minions’ any more my Lord. They don’t like it and it’s bad for morale.’

Voldemort’s eyes glinted dangerously and the rat-man blushed. Curling a...flap of flesh the evil Lord hissed back, aware of the thousand pairs of eyes burning curiously and expectantly into him,

‘What do you mean ‘not allowed’!? I’m the Dark Lord – I can do whatever the hell I want! That was the whole bloody point of becoming the Dark Lord!’

Pettigrew swallowed convulsively – watery blue eyes tracing the evil wizard’s monstrous features with obvious admiration,

‘T...the Faithful Order of Darkness’ Declaration of Evil Right’s states that ‘minion’ is a derogative term – you now have to refer to them as ‘fellow evil-beings’, ‘knights of darkness’, ‘villains’ or –‘, Here his nose twitched disconcertingly, ‘ – ‘Black Bettys’.’

The Dark Lord rubbed the bridge of his...pancake nose and sighed in exasperation. Somewhere in the midst of the gathered evil a little girl voice piped up tremulously,

‘Mummy and Daddy are fighting again.’

There was a ripple of disgust throughout the crowd as disturbing images were brought to the fore by Bella’s whimpered comment. Beside her, her husband patted her shoulder soothingly, eyeing the Hitler plushie she hugged close with almost desperate hatred. It had been a Christmas present from Voldemort, and the admittedly insane women hadn’t let go of it since. It was a distinct downer in the bedroom department.

Up the front of the room Voldemort was trying to hold onto the last of his not-so-considerable patience,

‘So you’re telling me that due to the F.O.D.D.E.R. act of 2010, I have to call my minions ‘Black Bettys’ and that – due to my being a lesser evil than Satan himself who can do whatever the hell he wants (no pun intended) because he could burn F.O.D.D.E.R. to a crisp with just a thought – I have to comply or pay a considerable fine – in blood no less - to the irritating peons that have assigned themselves in charge of the less evilly able?’

‘Y...yes M’Lord’

Voldemort looked to the sky pleading for strength, but then realised what he was doing and reversed the direction of his gaze,

‘For fucks sake’

He cleared his throat and addressed the restlessly shuffling crowd,

‘It is time...ahem...’Black Betty’s’’ Pettigrew squeaked in disapproval as Voldemort indicated quotation marks with his fingers as he spoke – the Dark Lord promptly ignored him, ‘to bring our fight to the stronghold of the enemy! We have worked hard and well to become a Great Force of Evil – and we will show our strength and conviction as we bring this world to rights! Glory will be ours and Darkness will claim the land once more! We depart tomorrow after dinner! Be ready!’

‘Please’

If Voldemort had been able the rat would have been ablaze with the force of his glare. Luckily no-one had heard the squeaky little man and were busy chattering excitedly to each other as they left the hall. The Dark Lord snorted in disgust and swept from the room, intent on drawing a bath and enjoying a soak in his private rooms as he read trashy romance novels and sipped ridiculously expensive wine, pilfered from the cellars of the houses he raided. There was something decadent about sipping wine from bottles spattered with the blood of his enemies.

 He was part way into doing this – surrounded by rose scented bubbles and sipping on fondly remembered white wine from the cellars of a particularly twitchy enemy who had impressed them all with the sheer velocity of his blood spurts – when there was a nervous knock on his door.

He growled and flicked his wand, letting the person enter as he set down his book just as he was getting to the good bit. Mandy had just confessed her undying love to the terminally ill Brett while the cad was secretly conducting an affair with the busty, blonde night nurse Chastity – which Voldemort bitchily assumed was meant to be some sort of ironic nickname – who was pregnant with the Head of Medicine’s baby. It was just reaching the moment where both victims of their partners’ lustful canoodling would walk in on the pair mid-coitus, hopefully but probably not resulting in double homicide, and Voldemort was understandably annoyed to have the tension broken by another incompetent minion – gah! Black Betty! Idiotic F.O.D.D.E.R. and their stupid rules...

‘I...I’m sorry t...to i...intrude M’Lord – paperwork-‘

With that the wide-eyed rat swooned into a faint after catching a glimpse of his leader’s pale gleaming body below the swirling rose scented bathwater. Sheets of paper seemed to explode into the air around him and the Dark Lord casually grasped one from the air as it swooped inelegantly by his head, picking up his glass of wine with his free hand. The unconscious rat twitched sporadically but Voldemort ignored him, half hoping that he’d drown in his own drool.

He took a sip of his wine before it registered just what he was reading and he sprayed his drink all over the sheet he was holding. Unfortunately his jerking movement upset his book and it fell with a splash into the bath, sending a wave of rose scented water across Voldemort’s stunned face.

Now spluttering and spitting the foul tasting water from his mouth the Dark Lord arose from the bath, water gleaming on his pale skin, almost slithering in his graceful movements as he stood to climb out the bath. The rat woke just as Voldemort reached for a towel and promptly fainted again as perverse thoughts caused his nose to practically explode into a nosebleed. As much as he wanted to leave the rat on the floor to bleed out the Dark Lord enervated the creepy rat-man after he had wrapped himself securely in a towel. The rat babbled to consciousness and then scrambled to his feet as he realised what was happening,

‘What is the meaning of _this_?’

The Dark Lord thrust a piece of paper in his face and he took it reverently,

‘Thank you my Lord’

Voldemort groaned in annoyance as the addle brained rat used it to mop up his nosebleed,

‘You idiot! I meant why does this paper look like a personal Health Risk Assessment form?’

‘B...because F.O.D.D.E.R. has made it compulsory for all Dark Lords to officially assess the risks they’re placing their Black Betty’s in? The other side is a contact stating that upon death the family of the individual Black Betty will receive compensation from this organization.’

‘Compensation!? What sort of compensation? No – wait – I don’t care – I bet Sauron never had this problem...’

And so the night passed, ringing with curses and the sound of quill against parchment until the last form was filled in. The sun was high in the sky when the Dark Lord woke, slumped naked over his desk and a form stuck to his cheek with drool. Yawning, Voldemort wiped the moisture from his face and absently sent a blasting curse at the grey, silver footed rat that was staring wide eyed at him, desperately humping the Dark Lord’s towel that had slithered to the floor in the night.

‘Out’

The rat squeaked and dashed for the door as it swung open at Voldemort’s command, tugging the towel behind it with its teeth. The door slammed and the evil man slumped back in his chair with a sigh,

‘Disgusting animal.’

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should apologise for the weirdness that comes from my brain, but honestly I enjoyed writing this too much to care.
> 
> Next chapter: Voldemort and his minio- damn it! - Black Betty's infiltrate Hogwarts.


End file.
